To Prove His Spudly Worth
by The Illustrious Crackpot
Summary: CROSSOVER CHAOS! Control Freak desperately needs to take over Titans Tower before the end of the day or else he will suffer terrible consequences from a secret society. To help him, he selects two VERY UNLIKELY assistants...
1. Chapter 1

**To Prove His Spudly Worth**

(by The Illustrious Crackpot, retold without permission from the focal character)

_The Secret Coven of Couch Potatoes_

in which Control Freak finds out that his situation is desperate

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"AND STAY OUT!" Robin yelled, punting Control Freak out Titans Tower's door for the umpteenth time that day. The chubby, Jedi-attired supervillain sailed in a graceful arc out of the T-shaped skyscraper before landing painfully in a bush twenty feet away, wincing and groaning. Robin shook his fist, retreating back into the huge reflective building. "SHEESH!" he muttered, slamming the door forcefully.

Control Freak stood rather wobbily and dusted off his black Sith robe, removing a stick from his long, greasy orange hair. Turning back to Titans Tower, he shouted imperiously, "I'm not done with you yet, Robin! All of you Titans are going down!!!! I, _CONTROL FREAK_, SHALL DEFEAT YOU ALLLLLLL!!! I JUST...eh..._feel like going home now!_"

So saying, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged away.

Back in the somewhat new, ultra-secret Couch Potato Lair (underground in an undisclosed location, sorry to say), Control Freak bounced annoyedly into the Magical Red Couch Potato Beanbag. The entire Lair had a Couch Potato feel to it; the walls framing the room into a cozy sphere were the color of potatoes, the shelves housing Control Freak's massive collection of DVDs were the color of a potato painted orange, and basically all of the furniture was potato-shaped. Control Freak had been thinking of redecorating it, but, like dashing madly back into Titans Tower, it would have taken much too much effort.

Control Freak banged his fist on the arm of his beanbag chair. "I CAN'T STAND IT!!!!" he shouted, his face contorting into spasmodically extreme emotions. "THOSE DARN TITANS ALWAYS FOIL MY PLOTS TO GET RID OF THEM!! AND THEY WON'T EVEN GIVE ME THEIR AUTOGRAPHS!!! And because of _them_..." he finished somewhat pathetically, "I can't fulfill my lazy evil deeds quota for the Secret Coven of Couch Potatoes."

The Secret Coven of Couch Potatoes, to put it simply, is the laziest, most fan-based secret community of evildoers in existence. One day back in the seventies, the community of rabid TV watchers realized that some of their number were actually achieving vegetative status due to lack of activity. To prevent an overpopulation of people-turned-eggplants, the couch potatoes banded together to form the Coven in order to give themselves recreational activities—nothing too taxing, you realize, just enough to keep them from waking up and discovering that they were edible. So they started a massive international community of couch potatoes, unified in purpose to do dastardly things while also discussing the perks of inter-character relationships from various TV shows and movies. I'm afraid that I can't reveal anything more, except that one of the major unofficial meeting websites for these appalling characters has in its name the words "Fanfiction" and "Net", with a dot somewhere in between.

With a grunt, Control Freak heaved his massive bulk off the Magical Red Couch Potato Beanbag and plopped himself in the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair, spinning around once before stopping in front of the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom—he'd had to downgrade from his giant, multiple-plasma-screened model when a bet concerning various _Star Trek_ characters had left him temporarily out of funds. The seat and headrest of the chair and even the computer itself were, again, shaped like potatoes. (Control Freak was a bit self-conscious about having everything in his secret lair being the "Couch Potato Something-or-Other", but home endorsement had been the only way he'd met his quota the month before.) With a couple of clicks, Control Freak was on the Coven's homepage. Selecting "Member Profiles" in the extensively computer-coded drop-down menu, the wannabe supervillain looked up random comrades. There had to be _someone_ else who hadn't fulfilled their quota of evil Couch Potato deeds...

Unfortunately, though, it didn't seem like it. Lenny Baxter had _almost_ shrink-wrapped a couple of little-girl superheroes. "Weird Al" Yankovic had released the DVD collection of his old TV show. Even The Illustrious Crackpot had managed to mass-hypnotize hordes of people through subliminal messages in fanfictions!

As he had been checking the profile, a muted grunt (actually a sound clip of Chewbacca which Control Freak had programmed into his computer) alerted him to a Couch Potato Instant Evil Message (CPIEM). Control Freak clicked the "confirm" button, and the message appeared in a popup window in the left-hand corner of the screen.

**The Illustrious Crackpot: whatr u up to CF, take ovr TT yet?**

Control Freak thought over his response for a moment, then started to type. The text appeared beneath the first message.

**Control Freak: yeah WAHAHA im talking 2 u from there now**

Smirking, Control Freak leaned back in the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair as he awaited a reply. In a moment the screen refreshed and Crackpot's rejoinder appeared.

**The Illustrious Crackpot: geez CF i know ur not in the towr i bet u didnt even make quota ha ha they check tomorrow /\ roflol**

It took a moment for the message to sink in, but as it did the supervillain's face burned with anger and embarrassment. He began to type furiously.

**Control Freak: U DONT HAVE 2 RUB IT IN, I CONTRL U!!!!! I CONTRL U ALLLLLLLL!!! IM THE MOST COUCH-POTATOEY GUY ALIVE!**

**could u hlp plz?**

The computer whirred, playing the song "White and Nerdy" as it processed. He waited a few painstaking moments for the message to be sent through the digital evil filters on the Couch Potato site and to the computer of The Illustrious Crackpot. Control Freak had a little hope, but then the reply popped up.

**The Illustrious Crackpot: haha NO XP more rofl**

As he was electronically laughed at, Control Freak closed the communications window with a murderous _click_ and put The Illustrious Crackpot on his "Block" list. He threw himself backwards in the Swivel Chair, panting from the effort. Although he had tried to affect unconcern, he was sweating now. _I've got to meet quota somehow!!!!_ he panicked, then a ray of hope arrived. "AHAHA! WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS BEFORE? They might not CHECK quota this month!!!!" He then became wrapped up in a monologue, launching out of his seat and striking a pose that would be called "impressive" were it being exhibited by someone at least fifty pounds lighter. "I CONTROL REALITY! YOU ARE ALL MY SLAVES! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA—"

His reverie was interrupted by a choppy digital sound clip of trumpets playing, and a cold feeling traveled up his spine and along his entire nervous system. Jumping back into the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair, he hurriedly tried to click the button for "Log Out"—but the command was being temporarily blocked. A fresh wave of sweat soiled his custom-made Luke Skywalker suit as message boxes popped up all across the screen (thanks to some complex computer code installed on the website), all proclaiming the same thing.

_The Ruler has logged on! The Supreme High Potentate has arrived! All bow to the great leader!_

Animated confetti burst onscreen as the trumpet clip reached a crescendo, and Control Freak felt like screaming with fear. The head of the Coven had logged on and, as Crackpot had observed, he was completely screwed.

"M-m-maybe he just wants to see the new postings on the BBS," he tried weakly, unable to move. But he knew it wasn't so as the Couch Potato Ultimate Fear-Striking Webcam buzzed into life, its potato-colored light blinking. The monitor of the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom crackled and fizzed as a new window opened itself, filling the screen. For a moment all was black—but then the image of the Leader fizzled in. All the window could fit was the man's shoulders and up, as his massive bulk extended far offscreen, but as Control Freak sweated he could easily see the man's thick, ponytailed brown hair, his sickly yellow skin, and the unshaven face hidden behind a black mask. He spoke in a rotund, disapproving voice, which crackled slightly with static from the Couch Potato Speakers of Crud.

"_Control Freak?"_ the Leader demanded impressively. A text version of the message appeared in the right-hand corner of the screen.

**Comic Store Guy: Control Freak?**

Control Freak was so nervous he almost forgot the traditional Coven Salute, making a "V" with all the fingers on his right hand and rattling off pleasantries in Klingon. Actually, he was so anxious that instead of saying the rough translation of "I bow before a greater being", he said "I milk herrings with cheesegraters". However, the Leader didn't seem to notice or, more likely, he didn't particularly care.

"_Control Freak,"_ he asked disapprovingly, _"have you not fulfilled your quota for the Coven?"_ Again, the message was transcripted into the pop-up window.

"Um, heh heh..." Control Freak replied, glancing uneasily from side to side. "Well, that is, my great Leader, well, I was just—"

"_NO EXCUSES!"_ the Leader shouted, his onscreen image flickering slightly as the webcam in his location apparently began to wobble. Reaching somewhere above the field of view, the Leader steadied it, and pointed an accusatory finger at the screen. _"Control Freak, this will be the third time this year that you have failed in getting your quota! And as you very well SHOULD know, the Coven's laws demand that—"_

He was cut short by the sound of a tinkling bell from somewhere on the Leader's end. The Leader looked up sharply in another direction and got up, yelling at someone outside the field of view. _"YOU!! THIS IS **NOT** A LIBRARY! BUY THAT ISSUE OF _RADIOACTIVE MAN_ OR BE FORCED TO WATCH CLIPS OF SPOCK IN A LEOTARD!"_

Apparently the off-camera situation resolved itself, as the Leader sat back down in front of the webcam. _"Worst customer **ever**,"_ he muttered, then put on his booming voice again as he looked, or at least _felt_ like he was looking, right at Control Freak. _"Young ball of blubber!"_ he bellowed, and Control Freak saluted again. _"Meet your quota by tomorrow or be kicked out of the Coven. And, as you know, we'd be forced to wipe your memories of anything connected with us and APPREHEND any DVDs, action figures or comic books that you own so that you NEVER spontaneously retrieve any memories of us at all. And plus, we could always use some more merchandise."_

Control Freak nearly broke out in hives at the thought. "I'll m-m-make sure to get my quota, sir," he reassured the glowering Leader. A loophole was forming in his mind. _Perhaps if I called it the **Spud Cave** and—_

"_Oh yes!"_ snapped the Leader, glaring at him. _"And none of that 'redecoration' stuff again! I DEMAND **TRUE** COUCH POTATO EVIL!!"_

The last vestiges of Control Freak's hope crumbled, and he slumped back in the chair. "I WILL DO IT, MY LEADER!" he proclaimed, though his tone was flat and he didn't sound very confident. "I'll take over Titans Tower and throw them out before tomorrow!"

The Leader made a noncommittal grumble and uttered closing remarks in Klingon before severing the connection. The screen flickered again, and soon the homepage of the Secret Coven of Couch Potatoes was back up. Still slightly in shock, Control Freak selected "Log Out" and put the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom to "Sleep".

He was _so_ screwed.

Fear gnawing at the pit of his stomach, Control Freak entered the Couch Potato Kitchen of Happiness and ripped open several bags of Cheetos, devouring their contents more swiftly than was normally possible for a human being. His mind had totally shut down on any plans for fulfilling the quota, so he reentered the Couch Potato Den and turned to his favorite source of inspiration: the wall-to-wall Couch Potato Plasma Screen TV of Contentment (patent pending). Plopping his bulk back into the Magical Red Couch Potato Beanbag, Control Freak pulled out his normal remote, double-checking to make sure it was the right one; he had mixed up the regular one with his superpowered one before, and it had taken _forever_ to convince the cable company not to revoke his subscription. With a click, channel 12 buzzed into view. The newscaster—a somewhat pretty woman with longish blonde hair—was in the middle of a sentence when Control Freak's superior reception picked up the signal.

"_...worthless self-proclaimed supervillain 'Control Freak' was once again kicked out of Titans Tower today—I mean, get a clue, you couch potato! They didn't even bother throwing you in **jail** this time!"_

"WORTHLESS TV NEWSWOMAN!!" Control Freak cried gratuitously, switching channels before the newscaster could show any video clips of the occurrence. He ended up with an image of a gray-brown cartoon wallaby in a Hawaiian T-shirt talking to a huge yellow cow in suspenders.

"_I dunno, Hef,"_ the wallaby was saying with an Australian accent. _"Garbage day is a VERY dangerous day!"_

"_Oh, come ON, Rocko!"_ the cow insisted as Control Freak changed channels again. He _hated_ animation. ...So it was just his luck that he ended up with a commercial for a DVD of _another_ cartoon show.

On the screen, two small, anthropomorphic white cartoon mice scurried across a huge desk and unrolled a comparatively gigantic blueprint. One of the mice was very short with pink eyes, a huge head and a jagged tail. The other was taller and thinner, slightly gawky with two huge blue eyes, a bright red nose and two protrudant top teeth. A voice-over was talking enthusiastically as more clips of the two mice played.

"_Add _Pinky and the Brain _Volume One to **your** DVD collection!"_ the voice was chattering. _"They may be two tiny lab mice, but they've got big dreams!"_

At this, the film clip switched to the two mice in a cage. The taller mouse was running in an exercise wheel while the other, shorter mouse stared out of the cage with his back to the camera. _"Gee, Brain,"_ inquired the exercising mouse in a wacky Cockneyed accent, _"what do you want to do tonight?"_

"_The same thing we do EVERY night, Pinky,"_ the other mouse replied in a deep, Orson Welles voice as he turned around. _"TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!"_

Control Freak watched open-mouthed as a clip began to play, where the Orson Welles mouse explained in detail how they were going to take over the world by controlling the power of a tornado using a specialized mechanical suit. As the scientific principles of the plan were described, Control Freak's piggy little eyes became progressively wider. This was no _ordinary_ Saturday morning cartoon. That science was _perfect_. It checked out with the mechanics of electromagnetism and everything. These mice were _geniuses_.

And they were _exactly_ what he needed to meet his quota.

Picking up the remote for the Amazing Recording Couch Potato VCR, Control Freak set it to record the rest of the commercial as he hurried off to the Secret Couch Potato Storage Bin. Rooting around in it, he found the Copyrighted Couch Potato Tool Kit, wherein he had the Super High-Tech Couch Potato Tools of Eternal Misery. Letting the TV play on in the other room, Control Freak pulled out his superpowered remote control. He had been thinking before, when he had last been thrown out of Titans Tower, how inconvenient it was that the things he could beam out of a TV show could only appear in the physical realm as broadcast signals. But if he could modify the remote correctly, he could beam out those two mice as _flesh and blood_ versions of themselves. His nefarious plan made giggles run up and down his throat as he started to work on the modifications. These "Pinky and the Brain" had the smarts to help him destroy the Teen Titans and looked easy enough for him to control. They were _mice_, after all.

Warbling the approximate translation of "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" in Tolkein's Elvish, the king of the couch potatoes began to work.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Meeting_

in which two unusual allies appear

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It wasn't long afterwards that Control Freak managed to finish the necessary alterations to his remote control. Rubbing his shabbily-gloved hands together in glee, he began to giggle. He knew giggling wasn't very villainous at all and that he would do better by throwing his head back and letting loose a deep and throaty "MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!", but he didn't quite have the lung capacity for it and, besides, he was feeling more delighted than evil.

Hurrying back into the Couch Potato Den—he had been working on the table of the Couch Potato Kitchen of Happiness—Control Freak picked up his VCR remote and rewound to the beginning of the commercial, then fast-forwarded until he found the clip where the Orson Welles mouse explained how to control a tornado. At the first moment where both mice were in the same frame, he paused it to allow for more accurate beaming. Pointing his new, souped-up remote at the huge plasma screen, the supervillain wannabe prepared to click the button—but he paused midair, contemplating what he was about to do. He had, as aforementioned, only just finished the repairs and modifications to his remote. So realizing, Control Freak had little to no idea of what would happen if he actually pressed the button. On the one hand, the mice might come out as totally real, living and breathing creatures. On the other, they might just end up as broadcast signals like all the others. Or the remote might beam _him_ into the commercial, maybe _permanently_. Or it could blow up. Was his membership to the Coven enough for him to risk his well-being and personal comfort for?

Then he remembered the Leader's ultimatum about apprehending his entire collection of fanbased merchandise and, without further thought, Control Freak pressed the button.

For a moment nothing happened, but then a huge crackle of electricity burst out around the screen and the image vibrated dangerously. Light exploded into the room, forcing Control Freak to throw up an arm to protect his eyes. Pops and bangs of all sizes reverberated across the Couch Potato Lair, and smoke began to billow out. A huge _wind_ of some sort rushed through Control Freak, nearly forcing his massive bulk backwards before the supervillain braced his legs against it. His thumb was still firmly on the button, and the storm continued.

Then, with a final _FWOOOM_, it was over as abruptly as it had begun.

Coughing and wheezing, Control Freak waved at the smoke in an attempt to clear out the room. _Darn subterranean secret bases!_ he screamed internally, wishing that the Couch Potato Lair had a chimney for the fumes to escape through. He could've sworn that he heard a few unexplained groans, but when he opened his streaming eyes to look, he couldn't stand the irritation from the smoke and had to shut them again. What had he _done?_

Control Freak staggered in the direction of what he thought was the secret entrance, but instead tripped over the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair and banged his head on the Ultimately Sturdy Couch Potato Desk. Groping blindly, he eventually found the door and released the hatch, letting out the fumes.

High above in Jump City, a few passing joggers wondered why there was smoke coming out of a manhole outside a well-known comic shop...

Back in the Couch Potato Lair, however, Control Freak was crouching behind the Magical Red Couch Potato Beanbag Chair as the air in the room cleared. He couldn't be sure of what to expect, since his remote could by no means be perfect, and he wanted to be out of sight in case anything dangerous happened. He was a coward, but he had lived this long and didn't really want to cut his existence short at this point in time. ...This was a very good strategy except that he was still wheezing and choking, making him a very noticeable presence anyways.

After a moment, a few shapes became distinguishable through the smoke. The Couch Potato Plasma Screen TV of Contentment (thankfully) appeared unharmed, as did the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom, though the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair would never be quite the same again. However, aside from the TV only one—actually two—things in the room concerned him: the pair of very small shapes visibly coughing their lungs out on the floor in front of the Beanbag Chair.

"Where are we, Brain?" a voice choked out in high-pitched Cockney, seeming to come from the slightly taller of the two silhouettes.

A lower voice, bewildered but composed, wheezed slightly in answer from somewhere in the vicinity of the smaller silhouette. "I don't know, Pinky. However, it—it _feels_ like the inside of a _chimney_."

What was more clearly becoming the big white ears of the taller shape perked up. Some of the smoke around it thinned, and the tall, thin, blue-eyed mouse from the commercial came slowly into focus as he jumped for joy. "Oh, is there a weenie roast going on?! I hope we get invited, oh I do, I _do!_" he rejoiced, and immediately afterwards Control Freak heard a loud _WHACK_.

With a bit more coughing and the waving of a small pink palm, the shorter silhouette scattered the last vestiges of fumes as the room finally aired out. Control Freak's pulse quickened in glee; the shorter being was the same large-headed white mouse that had proposed that brilliant plan. He cackled to himself as the Orson Welles mouse glared around the room suspiciously through his bloodshot pink eyes, the tall mouse wobbling about in a daze.

"Perhaps those infernal scientists have devised another _test_ for us," the short mouse guessed acridly. He lifted up a corner of the potato-colored Couch Potato Terminal Lifespan Throw Rug—it was called that because Control Freak had once tripped on it and as a result accidentally beamed himself into reruns of _The Brady Bunch_—and peered underneath it. "Do you recall that labyrinth they construed, Pinky? Perhaps we fell asleep inside another one and have now only..."

The one evidently called Brain continued with his thought, but Control Freak, still hiding behind the Beanbag Chair, wasn't listening. He was staring at the mice. The remote _must _have worked; the images of the two creatures were perfectly solid and unbroken, and they were _obviously_ substantial. After all, a broadcast signal wouldn't have been able to touch the Couch Potato Terminal Lifespan Throw Rug. But the mice themselves—Control Freak glanced between the still image on the TV and the mice in his secret lair. There was no mistaking that they were one and the same. Perhaps this Brain's ears were slightly bigger and the other one, "Pinky", he might have been a little bit taller, but they were unquestionably the same characters.

Pinky, tottering around the room uncertainly, suddenly got a glimpse of the Couch Potato Plasma Screen TV of Contentment and stopped short, dancing merrily and pointing at it. "Ooh, LOOK, Brain!" he cried, then emitted a nasal snort that sounded like he'd said "_Narf!_". "We're on TV! We're on TV!"

Brain looked up irritably. "Pinky, if you had less gray matter your intelligence would be comparable to—" But he didn't finish his statement on what Pinky's mind was like, as he had also caught sight of the huge plasma screen. He rubbed his chin in controlled amazement as he stared at the still image. "It's uncanny," he proclaimed finally, cocking his head at an angle. "I'm even more stunningly good-looking than I thought." Then the situation hit him, and he looked back up in alarm. "But why are there pictures of us on this television set? Who is responsible for our sudden appearance, and why were we brought here?"

Control Freak decided that now was just the right time for him to make a dramatic entrance, and made an impressive somersault jump out from behind the Magical Red Couch Potato Beanbag Chair and landed on his feet just in front of the two mice. Both of the tiny characters jumped, clutching at each other in fear.

"I am CONTROL FREAK!!!!!!!!" the selfsame villain proclaimed overdramatically, striking random "12th-level Galactic Samurai" poses. Following that, he loomed over his targets with his hands intimidatingly on his hips and a nefarious, triumphant smile stretched across his piggy face. "And **I** am the one who summoned you, because"—here Control Freak crossed his arms and looked impressively in the opposite direction—"I think I can help you."

It took only a second for Pinky to dash behind Brain and crouch there, trembling with his minuscule knees knocking together. Brain himself stepped back warily. "I have never _heard_ of anyone named 'Control Freak'," he informed the much larger supervillain in suspicion. "How were we summoned? And how could _you_ help _us?_"

This was the tricky part. When his remote could only beam out broadcast signals in the shapes of characters, they had been mindless minions only retaining the abilities of the originals. Now that he could summon the characters _themselves_, they were obviously autonomous. Control Freak didn't know how they might react to discovering that they were only characters in a cartoon TV show. At least Control Freak himself was in no danger of something like that happening to _him_. So he decided to play it safe and lied on the spot.

"I have been surveying you two for quite some time, gathering information until I was sure that you, ehhh, that you were _correct_ for the job," he made up, gesturing at the TV. The mice still watched him, the one nervously and the other with a deadpan expression. Control Freak figured that at least a _little_ of the truth couldn't hurt, so he held up the remote. "Using this remote that I myself created, I was able to summon you from...a _long distance away_, in an, um, PARALLEL UNIVERSE!!!! using your depictions on this film clip."

Brain stared pensively at the remote, and Control Freak was sure he was thinking of how this could benefit him. But Pinky merely scratched his head, opened his mouth and ejected a nearly unrivaled piece of stupidity.

"My! It's better'n Cablevision then, i'in't it?"

A sharp look silenced the taller mouse, and Brain turned carefully back to the somewhat-stunned Control Freak. "You said you could _help_ us," he repeated deliberately, taking his time with each syllable. "...How exactly did you mean?"

Just as Control Freak had hoped, this mouse was no idiot. ...The same apparently couldn't be said for his partner, but the Brain himself was no idiot. Control Freak pointed at Brain. "You took over the world in your home dimension. But this is another, eh, BETTER dimension!" He jabbed a thumb at himself. "_I_ want to take down the Teen Titans. If you help me defeat them, _I_ will help you rule _this_ world."

Pinky appeared confused, and Brain was still more than just a little suspicious. Leaning forward a bit more—keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground so the massive displacement of weight wouldn't bring him crashing down on the floor—Control Freak decided to even the odds a little. "If you tried to take over this world," he explained with a sly grin, "the Titans would surely stop you. So you'd have to defeat the Titans _anyways_." He wiggled the remote tauntingly. "And I think things would work out _much_ better if we teamed up."

A vague hint of the logic of the situation flickered across Brain's pink eyes, but he still seemed a bit hesitant. He glanced back up at Control Freak. "What sort of 'parallel dimension' is this, and how can we get home?" he demanded. "And who are these 'Teen Titans'?!?"

Control Freak wondered why he didn't give it to them straight that they were transmogrified broadcast signals, since every moment he spent arguing with them was one less moment to fill his quota. But he couldn't risk alienating the only two sources of help he could summon at such short notice. So in a split second decision, Control Freak decided on reverse psychology...a trick he'd learned from one of the few times he'd watched _Oprah_.

"Oh, they're simply the most _adept_ and WELL-PROTECTED people of the city," Control Freak informed him, then turned away in a show of disinterest. "Actually, though, I think I'd better go take them down _myself_. I think they're a bit _too_ GOOD for _you_ to defeat!"

Through his peripheral vision, Control Freak saw Brain stiffen. "What are you insinuating?" he demanded, crossing his arms and watching Control Freak's back. "I am a laboratory mouse with an IQ greater than any other being in the world—ANY world! You, if my guess is correct, are simply somebody with a few fancydevices who needs to _exercise_ more often."

"HAHA!!!" the taller mouse couldn't help but ejaculate, his ears stiffening as he emitted (for incomprehensible reasons) the word "_Fjord_".

The jibe at his weight was a low blow (LITERALLY "below the belt"), but Control Freak tried to ignore it. Instead, he plopped himself in front of the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom and began typing nonchalantly.

"Oh, you _may_ be a _little_ smart," Control Freak allowed, leering creepily at the mouse out of the corner of his eye, "but the Titans are the best of them all! I doubt that you'd even be able to get _into_ Titans Tower."

Brain was already putty in his hands. "A mere _building_ cannot stop ME!" he asserted angrily, scrabbling up the leg of the Ultimately Sturdy Couch Potato Desk and glaring at Control Freak. Pinky followed behind him interestedly. "You are speaking," Brain continued steelily, "to someone who PERSONALLY broke into _Fort Knox_. This 'Titans Tower' would be _child's play!_"

"Oh?" Control Freak inquired mock-politely—although secretly amazed at this accomplishment of the mouse's—then turned the computer monitor so Brain could see it. The screen was displaying live video feed of the outside of the Tower, as well as a view into as many of the rooms as could be breached without detection. Clearly visible were traps and alarms systems, the sight of which would make any petty thief cringe. Both Brain and Pinky studied the image for a while, then Brain looked back up at Control Freak. The supervillain was once again struck by the realism of the mouse's expressions, and it took an effort to remind himself that Brain, technically speaking, didn't exist.

"If _we_ assist you to infiltrate that building and oust these 'Teen Titans'," Brain repeated slowly, raising a critical eyebrow at him, "then _you_ will help us take over this world?"

"Of _course_," Control Freak lied, his fingers crossed behind his back. This was too easy. A grin was stretching across his face, and he extended his right hand towards the small mouse. "Do we have a deal?"

Brain deliberated a moment more, then, gritting his teeth, he grasped as much of his new ally's hand as he could and shook. "I suppose that we do," he replied. Control Freak's smile widened even more, and there was an odd tingling sensation in the part of his hand that the Brain was gripping. _The sensation of victory_.

In the background, Pinky clapped his hands enthusiastically as his tongue lolled out. "Oh, I _love_ crossovers!" he exclaimed gleefully, then his entire body made a small spasm. "_Zort!_"


	3. Chapter 3

_Rocket Trouble_

in which getting into the Tower may be more than our "heroes"

bargained for

———————————————————————————————————

In no time at all, Control Freak was crouched in the bushes outside Titans Tower. He stared up at the reflective windows of the building, licking his lips in the anticipation that it would soon be his. Then he turned around, glancing back at his two cohorts, and spoke in a low but somewhat impatient voice. "Are you ready yet?!?"

"Perhaps _you_ would enjoy making the necessary alterations!" Brain retorted, grunting as he adjusted some knobs and wires on a giant contraption lying on the ground. It looked like a gray, horizontal refrigerator with a small satellite dish attached to it and what looked like PVC tubing connected to a hose nozzle extending from the back. The Brain stood up, then fiddled around with them a bit more, then straightened again and wiped annoyed sweat off of his forehead. "There's no way of telling if the heat-based lasers I've installed will function correctly, what with the..._inferior materials_ I was forced to work with." He glared significantly at Control Freak as if to say that although they were on the same side, the Brain would do his best to insult him at every turn. This was a common element of villain-to-villain teamups (as Control Freak had seen so many times on TV and in comic books), so he allowed it to pass. "Without the equipment I would've had back at the lab, it's impossible to tell whether the beams will melt through the steel reinforcers or if _we'll_ end up on an _entrée_ list."

Pinky, who had been fiddling with a screw in the frame, inhaled in a single massive gasp. "Oh, I _wanted_ to eat out tonight, Brain!" he squealed joyfully. "I love those fancy restaurants with those silly-willy waiters who all think they're in France! They're so stupid they don't even know what _country_ they're in!" He chuckled nasally. "I'in't that _funny?_"

Looking to the Brain, Control Freak pointed at Pinky. "Does he _have_ to be here?!" the supervillain demanded. It had not taken long for him to realize that while the Brain's mind was a force to be reckoned with, Pinky's IQ was approximately the equal of most _American Idol_ contestants.

Brain glanced at Pinky, who was now inspecting quite thoroughly the contents of his earwax, and sighed. "Unfortunately, yes," he muttered, continuing to adjust the knobs. "If Pinky were unleashed on the rest of society, he would inevitably cause the downfall of life as we know it. It's far easier to simply contain him within my line of sight."

There was a slight pause, and Control Freak couldn't tell whether the mouse had actually answered his question or not. He was about to request elaboration on this point when Brain looked up sharply. "Are the rear thrusters in position, Pinky?" he shot off. The taller mouse leapt to attention and scurried to the back of the contraption, pulling out from inside the casing what looked like two long exhaust pipes. He then saluted.

"Right-o, Brain!" he called, waving a paw exuberantly. "_Poit!_"

Brain rubbed his paws together. "Excellent," he grinned. Then he took on a slightly more serious countenance as he turned to Control Freak. "I believe that all is in order."

"Good," Control Freak replied with forced composure (he didn't want to add to Brain's possible insult material by jumping up and down and yelling "Squeee!!!"), then took a moment to utter a ritualistic blessing over the contraption in Klingon before reaching down and picking it up. Surprisingly it was lighter than he'd expected, but he still had to stagger to avoid losing his balance before he slipped his arms into the straps. Shrugging the thing over his plump shoulders and making sure that the thrusters were pointed downwards, Control Freak decided to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything.

"So. This invention of yours," Control Freak reaffirmed slowly. "It'll FLY us up along the sides of the Tower, where we can melt that STEEL stuff between the windowpanes so YOU TWO can crawl in and dismantle the security system?"

"Is your attention span as pitiful as Pinky's?" Brain demanded, scrambling up Control Freak's leg and on further until he'd settled on the supervillain's left shoulder. "Of _course_ that's what it will do! After all, I _am_ a superintelligent lab mouse, and _you_ are NOT."

"I dunno, Brain," Pinky countered, appearing suddenly on Control Freak's other shoulder holding the spray nozzle. "That wasn't a very _stupid_ thing for 'im to do. After all, we needed the plot exposition."

Both Control Freak and Brain favored the lanky mouse with an expression that exhibited confusion, annoyance and disdain all at once.

"Take us up!" the Brain ordered, and Control Freak reached around the back of the refrigerator-shaped contraption. Fumbling a little, he located the correct switch and flicked it upwards, which caused a small thumb-accessible control panel to slide out near his right hand. Gripping the strap firmly with his left hand, Control Freak grabbed the control panel and pressed the appropriate button.

With a gigantic _whoosh_, the overweight supervillain was rocketed straight up into the air at such a force that even his idol Darth Vader might not have survived. With screams of pure terror, Control Freak pressed random buttons in an attempt to stop before the pressure of his mass against the atmosphere caused him to burst into flames. What this accomplished, however, was to change his direction so rapidly that it felt like there were five of him rocketing in ten different directions at once. First he barreled straight upwards for fifteen stories or so, then he was upended and shot straight back towards the ground, then he went diagonally, then horizontally, and spun so much it felt as if his entire body was going to just rip apart.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!" he shrieked around five octaves higher than most people his age.

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" Brain screamed, and gripped the hem of Control Freak's cloak as tightly as was physically possible.

"YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Pinky shouted, like he was on a roller coaster and not a highly volatile rocket engine.

After much more gratuitous careening of the rockets, Control Freak's shaking hands managed to grasp the panel and frantically smash some more buttons. There was a pause, and the rocket lingered in midair right next to the Tower, keeping the supervillain and his two minuscule companions floating and, thankfully, right-side-up. Control Freak heaved a massive sigh.

"That was cloAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" he screamed again, breaking off his sentence as the thrusters suddenly sent out a final burst of energy and shot him straight into one of the Tower's huge, reflective windows.

_Splat_.

Like a massive bug, with two smaller bugs on each of its shoulders, Control Freak and both mice smushed against the indestructible glasslike material and slid slooooooooooowly downwards three floors before landing with an ungraceful _wham_ on the lawn. The pile twitched, but otherwise didn't move.

One of the windows slithered open at the sound and a teenaged boy with pointed ears, green skin and a greener crew cut poked his head out. Looking from side to side in the empty air, Beast Boy—if you couldn't recognize him by the previous description you probably wouldn't have read this far—scratched his head, shrugged and shut the window again.

From somewhere near the bottom of the crumpled heap of supervillain, gigantic rocket booster and mice, Brain's voice croaked, "Perhaps the forward thrust was a tad too brisk."

———————————————————————————————————

After an hour and more than a few bottles of rubbing alcohol, the necessary repairs to the rocket thrusters were complete. Rubbing a sore spot on his shoulder, Control Freak stationed himself outside Titans Tower again with the huge contraption on his back. He glanced nervously down at the Brain, who was once more perched on his left shoulder. "Are you sure that it's going to work this time?"

Brain scoffed. "Of _course_ it will work," he insisted, much as he had the first time Control Freak had attempted to use the invention. "_I_ repaired it."

You also built it wrong the FIRST time, Control Freak thought privately, but didn't dare say as much aloud. He needed Brain's help to complete his evil deeds quota, and there was no question that the mouse was intellectually comparable to Einstein. Each supergenius was entitled to a few mistakes from time to time.

Pinky was practically vibrating in his spot, jumping up and down in excitement. "Oh, I hope this ride's as fun as the last time! _Fjord!_"

Control Freak groaned, not only at the memory but at Pinky's utter lack of concern in their mission. The imbecilic little mouse probably wasn't even concerned with taking over the world at all, no matter what Brain said. He briefly considered going up on the rockets, then _accidentally_ dropping the taller mouse into the flares of the boosters—

"What are you waiting for, you simpleton?" Brain interrupted testily, thumping his crooked tail against Control Freak's shoulder in irritation. Control Freak gritted his teeth, fed up with having to take verbal abuse from a _cartoon character_.

"I was just about to go up, ya little _runt!_" he snapped back. Brain was momentarily silenced, but Pinky seemed confused.

"Where's Runt?" he asked, looking around frantically from side to side. "Are he and Rita here too? They're lots of fun...well, except when Rita thinks that I'm her lunch. I remember one time when—"

He didn't get to remember that one time, as Control Freak activated the rockets again. He might have been worried about imminent death, but listening to Pinky prattle on about trivialities somehow seemed worse.

Thankfully, the thrusters were working properly this time and Control Freak plus his passengers zoomed upwards at a comfortable speed, stopping at the fifth floor of the Tower. Control Freak paused for a gratuitous evil cackle, which Pinky tried copying without much success. "YESSSSSSSSSS!!!" the supervillain shouted triumphantly, but Brain cut him off.

"Be _quiet!_" he hissed, pointing to the window. "One of those 'Titans' could hear you! I doubt that glass is _soundproofed!_ ...And besides, 'Yessssssssss' is MY word!"

"But the Titans could _see_ me _anyways_," Control Freak retorted, then stiffened with a jolt. "Wait, wait...that's _not_ a good thing."

"Then we must _hurry!_" Looking around Control Freak's nearly nonexistent neck, Brain spoke to Pinky. "Are you ready, Pinky?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n Brain! _Zort!_" Pinky replied with a giggle, hoisting the nozzle of the hose connected to the heat laser generator.

Control Freak reached around behind him to the body of the rocket thruster, flicking another switch to turn on the laser power. It was perfectly safe; the laser wouldn't go on until Pinky activated the switch on the nozzle.

"REMEMBER, PINKY," Brain yelled over the roar of the laser generator warming up, "SHOOT IT AT THE STEEL, BUT _NOT_ AT THE WINDOW!"

Pinky's ears perked up. "HUH, BRAIN?" he replied just as loudly, pressing the switch as the hose vibrated up and down in his tiny arms. "WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT SHOOTING AT THE WINDOW BUT NOT THE STEEL?"

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Brain and Control Freak shouted in unison, waving their arms around frantically, but the laser beam had already been discharged. In a flash it streaked towards the window, and in another flash it deflected off the superpowered glass and shot straight back at the hovering supervillain and the two mice. With the sound of a curtain spontaneously igniting, the laser fried all three of them to a crisp and proceeded to melt the rocket thrusters into a twisted, unrecognizable lump of congealed metal. There was a sputtering cough, and the clot of singed equipment and flesh dropped like a stone straight down to the ground.

_WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH_**THUNK**.

———————————————————————————————————

Inside the Tower, Robin sniffed the air confusedly and turned around. "Hey Cyborg, are you making dinner early?" he called.

A shaved, half-mechanical brown head poked out of an adjoining doorway. "Nope," Cyborg replied, holding a wrench and wiping oil off his hands with a cloth. "I'm just repairing the T-Sub. Why d'ya ask?"

Robin scratched his head, carefully avoiding flattening down his spiky black hair. "Hmmm. Thought I smelled chicken."

Cyborg shrugged. "Don't look at me, man."

So concluding the conversation, both superheroes returned to their respective tasks.

———————————————————————————————————

There was a small moment of inactivity outside the Tower, then, sore in every possible region of his body as well as in some muscles he hadn't previously known existed, Control Freak staggered to his feet and hauled up the two mice by the napes of their necks. "You are SO gonna _pay_," he muttered threateningly, then collapsed backwards in a recuperative faint. Pinky looked at Brain, Brain looked at Pinky, Brain cracked Pinky over the head with the metal nozzle of the hose and they, too, passed out with a gurbled sigh.

———————————————————————————————————

At long last, when all three of them had reawakened, Brain reconstructed the machine and Control Freak successfully buzzed them up to a high enough floor. This time Brain had the laser-spewing hose, and with a dogged, triumphant "YESSSSS!" shot a steady beam at the steel reinforcers. Control Freak's eyes lit up with glee.

"After all this time, I'm going to get rid of the Titans!" he squealed, rubbing his hands together. "This is so exciting!!!!!!"

The exhilarating suspense endured for around two minutes of steady discharge before it started getting old fast. "WHAT'S THE MATTER?" Control Freak snapped impatiently at Brain. "CAN'T THIS GO ANY FASTER?!?"

Brain stared fixedly at the nozzle of the hose, then at the steel reinforcers of the Tower, then wearily back at Control Freak. "It's laser-resistant," he stated simply, shutting off the lasers, and a small hush descended on the tiny, floating group. Pinky chuckled nervously.

"Didn't see that one coming," he remarked weakly.

Shortly afterwards, the rear thrusters spontaneously decided that they'd taken enough abuse already and just shut down, sending Control Freak, Pinky and Brain plummeting once more straight to the ground with a _thud _and a slight groan.

"Didn't see that comin' either! _Narf!_"


	4. Chapter 4

_There's Air All Over the Place_

in which the obvious solution is never the best idea in the world

———————————————————————————————————

Back in the Couch Potato Lair again, Control Freak sat at the Cuisinically Gifted Couch Potato Kitchen Table while Pinky was played with the Couch Potato Vending Machines of Terror off next to the All-Containing Couch Potato Refrigerator. (...It was a long story as to why he had vending machines in his secret lair, but suffice it to say that the Coven was making a nice side profit by him.) Brain, his gigantic head bandaged messily, was sitting on the table itself and scribbling a few plans in a notebook at least twice as big as he was.

"Perhaps the last scheme was _slightly_ flawed," Brain conceded, working out a tough-looking equation. "However, _this_ time I believe I have come up with a better plan."

"Oooh!" Pinky piped up from on top of the soda vending machine. He was having fun trying to push the buttons with his tail. "Do we get to have a plan where we tap dance to the tune of 'The Flight of the Bumblebee'? _Troz!_"

There was a short silence as Control Freak turned around in total incomprehension. Then he turned back to the Brain. "What is his _problem?!?_" he demanded in a hiss.

"I find that I'm better off not knowing," the Brain replied, then returned his attention to his equations. He pondered over them for a moment more, then he snapped his fingers. "I HAVE IT!"

———————————————————————————————————

Once more, the three were stationed outside Titans Tower. This time, however, they were not hovering in the air above it, but right near the ground by the foundations of the building. In front of them was a medium-sized square grate firmly attached to the tower. Control Freak looked first at the grate, then at the Brain, then exploded.

"SNEAKING IN THROUGH THE AIR VENTS IS THE STUPIDEST THING I EVER HEARD OF!"

"_Shhhhh!!_" Brain hissed, conking Control Freak on the foot. It was actually rather painful, surprisingly, and the supervillain began to hop up and down on his good foot to try and even out the pain. "Do you wish to alert the entire span of existence to our plan?"

"But it's a _moronic_ plan!" the supervillain protested as Pinky unscrewed the grate. "It's the most _obvious_ thing for them to booby-trap! This is POINTLESS!!!"

"You mean _poit_less," Pinky corrected him brightly, then to drive the matter home the small mouse ejaculated a "_Poit!_"

Brain ignored his companion and instead scoffed at Control Freak, his jagged tail whipping irritably from side to side. "It's _because_ it's the most obvious entrance!" he snapped, sweeping a pink hand towards the grate. "They won't have trapped it because they won't think that anyone's idiotic enough to _use_ it!"

To complete the insinuation, Brain shoved Control Freak headfirst into the shaft.

"OOF!" he exhaled as his lungs crumpled painfully. Gasping in huge breaths, Control Freak attempted to restimulate his internal organs, then tried to back out through the grate. This proved impossible due to several highly improbably contortions his torso had made during his unceremonious entrance, and instead he was forced to wriggle forwards, his immense bulk scraping painfully against the sides of the shaft. In a massive effort, he managed to force his stubby arms up above his head and claw his way pitifully forwards until he came to a shaft adjoining vertically with the one he'd just crawled through. Sending his entire spine through a grotesquely difficult range of motion, Control Freak squirmed himself headfirst into the adjoining passage, scrabbling until he was standing upright.

As he looked down, Control Freak couldn't be sure whether it was the dim light or his huge midriff that made it impossible to see. Glancing back up to the dizzying heights above, Control Freak pretended that it was the darkness, although there was ghostly but adequate illumination from light strips on the wall. He was tempted to yell something back at the mice behind him, but there was the possibility of one of those stinking Titans hearing him. So, settling for a mental Vulcan profanity—quite tricky, since none of them are supposed to exist—Control Freak gritted his teeth and steadied each of his legs against one side of the shaft before proceeding to crawl slowly upwards.

After what felt like an hour, Control Freak spotted what seemed like a dark square on the side of the tunnel. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a shaft branching off into another part of the Tower—_possibly_ the control room! Heart pounding, Control Freak frantically groped his way up to the passage, and when he finally grasped the floor of the adjoining shaft with a gloved hand it was with giddy anticipation. At least, that was what it was until he saw what looked like a small pink tail swishing back and forth next to his hand. And until he horror-strickenly pulled himself up far enough to see _inside_ the shaft.

"HAHA! _NARF!_"

There were those two infuriating mice, sitting quite calmly in the adjoining horizontal passage and watching him struggle. Pinky had his hands clamped over his mouth and was giggling so hard that he looked like he was having a seizure. Brain, while his reaction wasn't quite as extreme, was smiling so exasperatingly that Control Freak would have throttled him if he didn't have to keep a firm grip on the sides of the tunnel.

"Having fun?" Brain inquired sarcastically, his eyes lighting up diabolically at the suffering he was giving the supervillain. The remark, though uttered fairly quietly, rebounded off the sides of the passageway and echoed back at them as something that sounded vaguely rude. Control Freak chose not to answer. "We entered through another grate on the other side of the Tower."

"You could've just climbed up here _yourselves_, WITHOUT ME!" the supervillain hissed, scrabbling further up the tunnel until he towered over them. "Thanks to you, I'm _stuck!!_"

Pinky let out a disgustingly nasal snort and collapsed even further into laughter. Even without any coherent words slipping between the mouse's guffaws, Control Freak knew Pinky was referring to his overly-pronounced gut. He blazed with anger again, causing Brain to wave the idea carelessly away with an ever-widening smirk.

"But you can't _trust_ us, can you?" he asked, trying desperately to contain spiteful laughter. "If _we_ were to go up alone, we could take over this Tower _ourselves_ and leave _you_ OUT." The mouse accidentally let slip a congested, mirthful chuckle. "It's what you would've wanted, no?"

_Yes, it's what I would've wanted, NO!_ Control Freak screamed internally, but he had to count on the Brain's help too much to repeat it out loud. He didn't need to count on it enough, however, to stop him from glaring reproachfully at the rodents as they scurried out of the adjoining passageway and into Control Freak's shaft, clawing their way along the metallic sides of the tunnel just ahead of the struggling supervillain.

"Where're we trying to go?" Control Freak couldn't help asking in a slightly hushed voice. The sound of the echoes heading up the passage worried him, as they might be heard, but even years of religiously watching science fiction movies hadn't quite taught him the secrets of telepathy. As well, those characters with that power that he had encountered during his jaunts into television hadn't quite appreciated his interrupting their meditations.

"OOH!! OOH OOH!!!!" Pinky shouted, waving a small, pink hand about fanatically. "I WANNA GO TO THE KITCHEN AND SEE IF THEY HAVE ANY_MMMMMPH!!!!!_"

Before he could finish, Brain clamped a hand over his companion's mouth. "Pinky, be _quiet!_" he admonished, his bloodshot eyes looking nervously up the shaft. Pinky squirmed as an unearthly silence descended. Control Freak held his breath, but after several minutes it didn't sound like the Titans had heard anything from wherever they were. He let out a gargantuan sigh and completely forgot his question.

"Good thing we weren't discovered," he remarked for no apparent reason, inching his way up the shaft again. Slightly more relaxed, Pinky and Brain had already scrambled further up. "If they couldn't hear _that_, absolutely NOTHING can go wrong this time! WAHAHAHAHA!!"

———————————————————————————————————

In a room much higher up in the Tower were two teenaged girls, one orange-skinned with long russet hair who was wearing a purple miniskirt and top, the other with an ashen complexion, a black leotard and a massive blue cloak with the hood pulled over her face. Both were reading, Raven—you should know which one she is for the same reason you should have recognized Beast Boy before—deeply engrossed in a manual of advanced spells and Starfire flipping through what seemed to be a Tamaranean fashion magazine. Both were levitating somewhere around three inches above Raven's bed, cross-legged and almost totally oblivious to anything else. That is, until Starfire looked up and commented, "It has become somewhat..._stuffed_ in here, Raven."

Raven didn't even bother looking up. "It's not 'stuffy', Starfire," she replied, her emotionless voice rasping a little. "It's closed and secure. If you don't like it, you can go somewhere else."

Starfire brightened. "There shall be no need!" she proclaimed happily, setting her feet back down on the floor and striding over to the wall. "I shall—"

She was cut off by Raven, who still hadn't looked up. "Don't even _think_ about it, Starfire," she warned.

"It is simply an adjustment to the conditioning of air," Starfire insisted, and clicked a button on the wall.

———————————————————————————————————

In the middle of the shaft, Control Freak suddenly heard a rumble. He looked up at Brain worriedly.

"What's that?" he asked, dreading the answer. Pinky squealed with delight.

"It sounds like an elephant!" he cried ecstatically, peering down into the darkness. Then he straightened and scratched his head. "But what would an elephant be doing in—"

He didn't get a chance to finish his thought, as a massive gust of wind suddenly _whooshed_ up from beneath and sent both mice flying rapidly up the passage. As their screams and shouts echoed off the walls, Control Freak chuckled darkly to himself and rubbed his paunch.

"What's the weather like up there?" he called mockingly, not caring if the Titans heard him. He grinned triumphantly. "I've got you _there_, rodent! You don't see ME flying away in a littleWAAAAAAAAAAAUGGGHHH!!!!!"

With a gigantic, gratuitous effort, the wind loosened the supervillain's grip and sent him shooting up the shaft as well.

———————————————————————————————————

Far above (but quickly getting nearer), a trickle of cool air seeped into Raven's room. Starfire let out a sigh of pleasure, but Raven immediately dropped her book and glared accusatorily at the Tamaranean.

"WHAT," she asked through gritted teeth, "DID I JUST _SAY?_"

Starfire was a little concerned. "But...the room was becoming like the inside of a Space Vork's glooshflik!" she protested. "It is moderately _pleasant_ now!"

———————————————————————————————————

Screaming all the way up, Control Freak was soon whisked all the way up through the Tower's ventilation system until he was surging directly behind Pinky and Brain again. Brain glared down at him past the ripples the G-Force was creating in his face.

"WHAT DID YOU _SAY?!?!_" he shouted, his voice at a much higher pitch from the pressure and his emotion. "_WHAT_ DID YOU SAY ABOUT NOTHING GOING **WRONG?!?!?**"

"I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT NOTHING GOING WRONG, BRAIN!!!" Pinky yelped in reply, but he was ignored.

"BY MY CALCULATIONS," Brain resumed, the echoes of his previous shout still bouncing around the tunnel, "IN ABOUT TEN SECONDS WE'RE GOING TO POP OUT OF THE TOP OF THE _TOWER!!!!!_ WHERE **WE** COME FROM, THAT IS CALLED SOMETHING GOING _VERY_ WRONG!!!!!!!"

"SO I LIED!!!!!!" Control Freak screamed. The howling of the wind was almost too much for him. "AT LEAST THINGS CAN'T GET ANY WORSE!!!!!!"

———————————————————————————————————

At that exact moment, Raven used an energy bolt to click the air conditioner back off.

———————————————————————————————————

With a _whirrr_, the wind died abruptly in the shaft. All was quiet. Pinky, Control Freak and Brain, defying all the laws of physics, remained hanging in midair for about one more second. In that one second, Brain favored Control Freak with a look that simultaneously conveyed disgust, annoyance and wholehearted loathing.

"I find you utterly repugnant," he remarked, and suddenly the three dropped like a stone back down the shaft.

———————————————————————————————————

A few seconds later, a large _clang_ reverberated throughout the entire Tower, making Cyborg look up from his repair job. Scooting himself out from under the T-Sub, Cyborg walked over to the ventilation ducts and, with an inhuman effort, ripped the grate off. When he did, he let loose the echo of a _very_ rude-sounding remark. He winced, rubbed his one remaining human ear and muttered something about talking to Beast Boy later.

———————————————————————————————————

A few tourists looking at the Tower from their cars noticed an odd-shaped bulge protruding from somewhere near the base of the building, but it was not commented upon.


	5. Chapter 5

_Grocery Day is a Very Dangerous Day_

in which the title is a quote from the same cartoon show Control Freak skipped over in chapter 1 (just to let you know)

———————————————————————————————————

It took a long time and many nearly impossible contortions, but eventually Control Freak managed to squirm both himself and the two mice out of the ventilation shaft and onto the lawn before the Tower, panting heavily. "OK," he wheezed, doubling over, "that didn't work. What's next?"

Brain groaned, his pupils spinning woozily around the rest of his eyes. "How about I pop my discs back into place first?" he asked, his voice wobbling up and down in pitch like an acrophobe on a balance beam.

Control Freak stood up, slowly and shudderingly. He was in substantial pain, although by all rights that fall should've killed him. Why were all these attempts with Pinky and Brain so _painful?_ They—well, the Brain at least—were supposed to be _geniuses!_ How was it that Brain still hadn't gotten them _inside_ yet? And—actually, it seemed like a jinx to ask it, but why hadn't any of this severe violence _killed_ him? He cast a wayward glance at Pinky, who seemed to be doing a slow-motion, dizzy version of a waltz. All the sciences of the situations would _also_ have demanded that the mice die, whether it be while rocketing into the atmosphere or plummeting down a ventilation shaft.

Well, Control Freak suddenly realized, they _were_ cartoon characters. They were _supposed_ to be able to do that. But then why had _he_ suddenly become immune to death? _HE_ wasn't a cartoon character.

"Yes you are," Pinky mumbled almost incoherently somewhere off to the left, but Control Freak assumed that he was answering some mental question of his own.

"WELL?!?" the supervillain demanded impatiently in order to have something to do. He glared at Brain. "ARE YOU DONE WITH YOUR SPINE YET?!!?!?"

Brain returned his glare with an equally menacing one. "Of course," he replied through gritted teeth, standing up with a cracking noise. "Unfortunately, my bone structure doesn't have quite as much _cushioning_ as yours!"

Control Freak felt like screaming something exorbitantly antisemitic at the mouse, but managed to twitchingly hold it in. _You need these guys to meet the quota_, he reminded himself for what felt like the thousandth time. "You got another plan?" he spat.

"I _always_ have another plan," Brain retorted acridly. Then Pinky shouted something totally unexpected.

"And _I_ always have fish sticks!"

Control Freak whirled around, and was surprised to see that the little mouse was _right_. There he was, sitting there, stuffing his face with _fish sticks_.

"WHERE IN THE WORLD DID YOU GET THOSE?!?" Brain and Control Freak demanded in almost perfect harmony.

Pinky waved a hand vaguely at a nearby bush, a few over from the one the three had been hiding in before, and continued to munch gleefully on the stale-looking delicacies. Rushing over to the location he'd indicated, Control Freak pushed some of the brambles aside to find a cardboard box full of _fish sticks_. The box was crumpled—in fact, the entire bottom was utterly crushed—and looking a little worn, and the postmark stated that it had been sent to Titans Tower the week before. Brain, who had followed the supervillain over, lifted up a corner of one of the flaps.

"Obviously part of a food shipment to the Tower," the mouse observed dryly, letting the flap fall back into place as he walked around the rest of the box, rubbing his chin. "What with all their duties, whatever they may be, these Titans don't appear to feel the _need_ go grocery shopping." Looking up at the top of the Tower, Brain shaded his eyes and traced an imaginary line in the air before him. "What with the trajectory this box took in its fall, I would surmise that the food arrives by some sort of aerial transport, where in all probability they drop it down a hatch in the roof where it enters into the—" Brain's pink eyes abruptly widened, and he turned to Pinky. "Pinky, _are you pondering what I'm pondering?_"

Pinky chewed thoughtfully on another fish stick. "Um, I think so, Brain," he managed past the mounds of breaded seafood, "but shouldn't we dry out the puppies before we get started on the horse?"

Control Freak gave the taller mouse an odd look, then returned his attention to Brain, who was shaking his head. "No, NO!" Brain replied, then pointed to the roof of Titans Tower. "If we can manage to command their food delivery," he enunciated slowly, rubbing his hands together expectantly, "then we can _take over Titans Tower!_"

Control Freak's hand immediately shot into an inner pocket of his Sith robe, from which he pulled a miraculously unharmed portable laptop—not the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom, though. Flipping it open, he immediately uploaded the wireless Internet connection and did a quick search on the Coven's website. Within moments, he looked up in diabolical glee.

"Guess who just _happens_ to have a grocery delivery due today," he cackled implicatively, which made for a great dramatic effect until Pinky broke in.

"Regis Philbin?"

"Oh, forget it," Control Freak sighed in disgust, and he waited patiently for the Brain to come up with a plan.

———————————————————————————————————

"_THIS_ is your PLAN," he clarified some time later, sandwiched inside a now-empty box that smelled like fish sticks. "Getting into a BOX."

"SHHH!" Brain hissed from somewhere near his right elbow—Control Freak couldn't possibly contort himself around to see. "If we can convince the people in the delivery vehicles that they've DROPPED a package—US—then they will undoubtedly come down and get their 'dropped cargo' and transport us inside the Tower!"

"How come we can't do any more COOL plans?" the supervillain griped, trying desperately to ignore an itch on the back of his shin. Because of his odd curled-up position, the only relief he could possibly get was by rubbing it very carefully against his lower spine. "That first plan had a HEAT LASER and ROCKETS and EVERYTHING! Now we just have an old box that stinks of seafood!"

"I think it's an improvement," Pinky commented in a muffled voice from somewhere behind him. This statement was followed by an odd sound that Control Freak at first couldn't identify, then decided was Pinky licking the side of the box. He shuddered.

"Well, couldn't we at least do something OTHER than just trying to sneak in?" he hissed pathetically.

Brain made an odd sort of snort. "As I told you, my first plan _was_ to take the delivery vehicles hostage and attempt to starve out these 'Teen Titans', but you _insisted_ that we oust them _today_."

Ah, yes, the quota. These continued failings to infiltrate Titans Tower were taking up a lot of his precious time to do some dastardly Couch Potato-y deeds—it was already almost six-thirty, if he remembered the laptop's readout correctly. His pudgy hands curled into fists...well, they WOULD if his nerve endings weren't being strained by the close confines of the box. He couldn't disappoint his Leader, _especially_ not with such high stakes. He had just bought the latest season of _Star Trek: Enterprise_ the day before, and he hadn't even removed the plastic wrapping yet.

"All right, all _right_," Control Freak grumbled, and they lapsed into silence. Which was almost immediately broken by the overweight supervillain.

"I wish we could see out of the top of the box."

Control Freak had, in the short space of time he'd known him, figured out how to tell by sound that Brain was rolling his eyes. This was one of those moments. "Oh, yesssss, BRILLIANT idea," the mouse spat sarcastically. "Perhaps _someone_ should have thought of it _before_ we went _into_ the box!"

There was a soft gasp from behind him. "Oooooh, I'm _sorry_, Brain!" Pinky wailed. "I didn't know!! Oh, I'm sorr-orr-orr-_rrryyyyyyyy!!!!_"

Next came a long, sloooooow pause. "Pinky," the Brain noted impatiently, "I was speaking to the _other_ buffoon."

Grumbling, Control Freak jerked his leg in an anatomically impossible direction, and was pleased to hear a muffled _whumf_ as it connected with something small and rodentlike. A few seconds later, though, two bloodshot pink eyes dropped upside-down in front of his face and glared at him. At first the supervillain was startled, then he was just plain confused.

"Heeeeeeeeey," he realized, stretching the word as he narrowed his eyes, "how come I can see your eyes when it's so dark I can't see anything else?"

The Brain made a grumbling sound, but it was obvious that he enjoyed discussing anything that Control Freak might not understand. "Recall, if you will, that my companion and I are genetically altered lab mice. During a botched experiment to give us night vision, our retinas became glow-in-the-dark."

There floated up to Control Freak a congested giggle and a "_Zort!_". "I liked that experiment where we got webbed feet, myself," he remarked. Control Freak himself was just trying to remember what the mice's feet had looked like when he heard the sounds of Brain becoming increasingly fed up.

"That wasn't an EXPERIMENT!" he retaliated. "That was when you accidentally went through the _laminating_ machine while we were printing up fliers for that plot with the 'Pokey-man' cards!"

"Oh, really?" Pinky answered, sounding confused. "I thought that was the time when we stole all the fabric softener from the laundromats so everyone on Earth would be in uncomfortable clothes!"

"No, no, _no!_" the Brain shot back, closing his eyes. The small pink pinpricks of light disappeared like a candle being blown out. "_That_ was when I got a pair of denim _jeans_ fused to my face."

A shower of dandruff against Control Freak's fingertips alerted him to the fact that Pinky was rubbing his head vigorously. "Actually, Brain, I'm _pretty_ sure that happened during the time when we got stuck inside that tuba, don't you remember?"

Control Freak's eyes were flitting back and forth between the sources of the two voices. What exactly were they talking about?

"You mean that time with the _horrible_ mix-up with the hypnotically-tuned instruments and the 3rd grade orchestra? It wasn't pantswear _that_ time, that time it was—"

No one got to hear what it was that time, though, as suddenly the box left the ground. "WE'RE MOVING!" Control Freak cried excitedly, and for his trouble he got a whack on the nose from Brain.

———————————————————————————————————

Outside in a large, white-and-blue helicopter were two men, one older with a strong-chinned stony face, black hair and mustache, and the other a young man with a mess of short brown hair piled on top of his head. Both were uniformed in blue collared shirts and slacks with the insignia "Superhero Caterers" sewed elegantly over the pockets.

"Dunno how we coulda' dropped that box there," commented the older man, glancing out the window to watch as a winch attached to the bottom of the copter swung the cardboard box into the air. Next to the relatively small package was another winch, holding up a huge net full of similar-looking boxes. "I was sure that net was tight when we left."

"Uh-huh." The younger man yawned, leaning back in his seat a little as he listened to the commotion outside the chopper. Then he looked back at the other man. "Hey dad, do grocery boxes usually say 'Ouch', '_NarfPoitZort_' or 'Shut up Pinky or we'll be discovered'?"

"No, not that I know of."

"All right then," the younger man replied, and went to sleep.

———————————————————————————————————

Inside the Tower, Robin was kicking a stuffed Slade dummy in his private training room when a red light began flashing on the ceiling. Seeing this, he paused in his "exercise", then walked to the wall and pressed a button. The red light immediately turned off. Satisfied with this result, Robin pulled a round yellow device from his belt and flipped the top open. "Beast Boy," he dictated into the communicator, "the copter's here. It's _your_ turn to get the groceries."

"_Awwwwww..."_ a voice moaned from the device, but the connection terminated. In a moment a green cheetah streaked down the hallway, soon transforming into a small green bird and flying straight to the uppermost room in the Tower. Once he was inside the empty, cavernous "pantry", the bird spun back into the shape of a green-skinned teenager, and Beast Boy sighed. "I did _so_ get it last week _too_," he grumbled, but keyed in something on a nearby computer. Immediately the helicopter landing pad on the Tower roof slid back, revealing a cavernous hole in the ceiling of the room Beast Boy was standing in.

———————————————————————————————————

As he watched the hatchway open beneath him, the older helicopter pilot pressed a button on the dashboard. Both winches let go of their cargo, and the net as well as the stray box plummeted into the "pantry". Suddenly waking up, the younger man watched sleepily as the roof slid back into place and the chopper turned to fly back home.

"Dad," the younger man started again, "do groceries usually scream like girls when they're dropped from the bottom of a helicopter?"

The older man turned to look at him, then placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Son," he remarked, "you have a lot to learn about this business."

So saying, the helicopter flew dramatically off into the sunset.

———————————————————————————————————

Inside the massive storage room of the Tower, Beast Boy let out another groaning sigh and walked over to the boxes, checking the labels to make sure nothing was missing. "Hmmm...there's the tomatoes, yeaaaaah, and the bread, and there's the turkey—_eeeee-_yew—and—oh, score, there's my TOFU!" The Teen Titan hopped up and down in glee, hugging the all-important package to his chest, then stopped and sniffed the air. "_Oooouh_," he shuddered, dropping the tofu (GASP!) and holding his super-sensitive nose. "GROSSSSSS!!" Following the odor, he found a _suspiciously_ large, beaten-up box that, in the bad lighting, appeared to be trembling. "ICK! These fish sticks are a week _old!_ And they smell like mice and SWEAT! DUDE, that is _so_ wrong."

Sliding his hands underneath the box, Beast Boy struggled to lift it. "Ugh, this weighs a _ton!_" he wheezed, snapping his hands back out, then taking a deep breath he spun into the form of an elephant. Lifting the box with his tusks, Beast Boy used his trunk to push open one of the huge glass windows and chucked the crate out of the Tower, changing back into himself and closing the pane.

———————————————————————————————————

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" screamed Control Freak and his two mousy companions as the box sailed down the immense height from the top of the Tower. The flaps burst open, and the wannabe supervillains tumbled out of the crate in freefall, eyes widening in terror as they sailed over the town. The ground fervently rushed up to meet them, greeting the three with a bone-crushing hug and a heavy slap on the back. The sheer force of their fall sent them smashing straight _through_ the ground, where they crashed (coincidentally) right into the Couch Potato Den of the Couch Potato Lair.

All was quiet save for a few painful groans. Then Pinky managed to wriggle woozily out from underneath Control Freak's massive forearm, wobblingly holding up a finger while his eyes unfocused comically. "He shouldn't...shouldn't be so picky ab...about wha' he, _troz_, eeeeats," he objected garbledly, then with a sickening _thud_ the chapter ended.


	6. Chapter 6

_All's Well That Ends Well_

in which this story FINALLY ends

———————————————————————————————————

When Control Freak regained consciousness, he immediately leapt to his feet, opened his mouth to yell something vastly unpleasant, then winced in mind-boggling pain and proceeded to pop all his joints back into place. From the huge crater their impact had caused, both Pinky and Brain sat up and tried to clamber out without irritating any of their internal hemorrhages. Both mice were a mass of bruises, their fur gray from use and both eyes swollen almost completely shut. The Brain's cranium looked horribly misshapen, part of his skull dented and one ear crumpled. Control Freak suspected that he didn't look any better, and this suspicion was mostly confirmed by how bad he _felt_.

"W-w-well," Brain gasped, shaking his head vigorously and managing to pop it back into shape, "that didn't turn out as favorably as I had hoped. However—"

" 'HOWEVER', _NOTHING!_" Control Freak interrupted harshly, wobbling dangerously as his lungs reinflated. He pointed a trembling finger at the mouse. "I'm th-th-_through_ with this! All aft-afternoon we've been _tryi-i-ing_ to conquer those stupid T-Titans, and none of your plans even m-managed to get us _inside!_"

"Well, we _did_ get inside with that last one. _Poit!_" That was Pinky, twitching his hairless tail until he got the kinks out of it and staring innocently up at Control Freak with big blue eyes.

"BUT WE GOT THROWN OUT AGAIN!" The supervillain's voice was cracking as he shouted. He swung out both arms in a gesture of total annoyance and slight disbelief. "I THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE _GOOD!_ DIDN'T YOU TAKE OVER THE WORLD IN YOUR CART—_DIDN'T YOU TAKE OVER THE WORLD?_"

"We _were_ working on it," Brain replied a bit self-consciously, scratching his head. Control Freak's mouth widened to deliver another cry—then his mouth shut. Then it opened and shut again.

"W-_what?!?!_" he demanded. Brain lowered his eyes, looking away.

"Well, we _almost_ took over the world," he replied, making a quick total on his fingers, "more than seventy-eight times."

"I—you—we—couldn't—wasn't—how—" Control Freak gibbered incoherently, then ran to the Couch Potato Plasma Screen TV of Contentment and turned it back on, pressing the "power" button on the Amazing Recording Couch Potato VCR. The screen fizzled back to the still image of Pinky and Brain he'd used to beam them out, but promptly jolted to life as the tape played. It was from just past the explanation of the "harnessing a tornado" plot that the commercial continued.

"_Pinky and the Brain sure are a dynamic duo,"_ the voice-over bubbled as Control Freak stared blankly at a shot of the mice being whipped around by huge winds. _"They always try to take over the world, but they can NEVER SUCCEED."_

Just as Control Freak's mind tried to digest this single bit of knowledge, it cut to a clip of the two mice walking dejectedly towards a huge blue building with the words "Acme Labs" in red letters across the top._ "Come, Pinky,"_ Brain commanded, _"we must return to the lab to plan for tomorrow night."_

The on-screen Pinky plodded along behind his shorter companion. _"Why, Brain? What're we going to do tomorrow night?"_

"_The same thing we do EVERY night, Pinky,"_ replied Brain as the camera moved in for a close-up, _"TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!"_

With another shot of the new DVD set, the recording ended and the screen dissolved into static. Control Freak remained staring at the TV, all mental functions shut down. "So," he stated tonelessly as a slightly confused Pinky and Brain shuffled along the floor in front of him. "You try _every_ night, and you never _actually_ take over the world."

"NOPE!" Pinky chirped happily, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

At last Control Freak snapped. "I HATE YOU!!!!" he screeched, whipping his (somehow intact) superpowered remote out of his pocket and jamming his thumb down on the button. With a whooshing sound not unlike that of a flushing toilet, the images of the corporeal Pinky and Brain fizzled and the two mice were sucked with a slight cry back into the screen of the TV, which changed to black with a _bloop_.

For a few moments nothing happened, then the remote dropped to the floor with a clatter. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Control Freak shouted dramatically up through his newly open-air roof, then sank to his knees in despair.

"My life _sucks_."

The supervillain stumbled towards the Ultimately Sturdy Couch Potato Desk and sank into the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair, where he buried his face in his hands and sobbed pathetically. He hadn't fulfilled the quota, he'd wasted the entire day trying and now not only was he going to lose his membership to the Coven, they were going to erase his memories of it and steal all of his fanboy memorabilia. What was he going to do, what was he going to—

Without warning the Couch Potato Laptop of Doom jolted out of "Sleep" mode, its screen buzzing to life. Control Freak sat up abruptly as the potato-colored light on the Couch Potato Ultimate Fear-Striking Webcam blinked rapidly, and without warning a live video feed of the Leader appeared on his screen.

"_Control Freak!"_ the Supreme High Potentate snapped, glaring at the screen through his black mask. He still hadn't shaved since the last communication all those hours ago.

"M-m-my Leader!" Control Freak stammered, making the customary salute with his right hand. "I—I can explain everything, I—"

"_Don't speak, blubbering fanboy!"_ admonished the Leader, and once again everything he said was transcripted as type in a text box in the corner of the screen. _"**I**, your LEADER, wish to speak to you!"_

"Y-y-yes, my L—" the supervillain agreed before remembering the no-talking directive, then clamped his hands over his mouth and nodded.

"_Very good."_ The Leader reclined in his own swivel chair on the screen, narrowing his eyes importantly. _"Control Freak, the Couch Potato Counsel has been discussing the matter of your missed quota, and we have come to the conclusion—"_

Control Freak winced, shrinking back into his chair. This was it.

"—_that you should be immeasurably rewarded."_

There was a clatter as Control Freak painfully banged his knee against the Ultimately Sturdy Couch Potato Desk in surprise. "I—I—_what?_"

"_Worst listener EVER,"_ the Leader grumbled, glaring at Control Freak and folding his arms over his immense bulk. _"Yes, Control Freak, REWARDED. Although you have missed your quota three times this past Couch Potato-y Year of Evil Deeds, the Counsel has voted to make an exception to the mind-wipe directive due to your massive contributions to the Couch Potato community. It was YOU who brought 'Teen Titans East' into the public eye, giving the entire Coven a whole new group of figureheads to arrange relationships between. As well, you allowed for an occurrence where Más and Menos were actually temporarily COMPREHENSIBLE! And so, for that, we are momentarily disregarding your failure to meet quota and are presenting you with a complimentary DVD set, all expenses paid."_

Control Freak was completely stunned, but was jerked out of it at the sound of whirring above him. A small metallic apparatus with a propeller at the top was lowering itself into the Couch Potato Lair, a small cardboard package clamped between two metal rods. _"Oh, and by the way,"_ the Leader continued, _"your secret base is showing."_

As the screen winked off again, Control Freak's eyes were focused on the flying gizmo when the two rods suddenly split apart and dropped the package. Gasping, the bulky supervillain dove out of the Awesome Super-Powered Couch Potato Swivel Chair, managing to catch the parcel before it hit the floor. He didn't even notice as the carrier device flew up and out of the Couch Potato Lair, he was so intent on whatever the leader of the Coven had sent him. Ripping the duct tape off the flaps, Control Freak tunneled furiously past mounds of packing peanuts until he felt the rectangular edge of the DVD set, then he swiped away the Styrofoam chunks to reveal his gift.

_Pinky and the Brain_ volume one.

———————————————————————————————————

Back at Titans Tower, a shrill scream pierced the glass of the immense windows, making Cyborg look up from a miniature airplane he was assembling. Beast Boy paused his GameBoy, and both Raven and Starfire floated out of Raven's room where they'd been meditating. "What is the meaning of emulating the cry of a Slor Beast's young?" Starfire inquired, touching down on the floor.

Cyborg glanced out the window, rubbing his smooth head. "Sounded like someone in _trouble_."

Robin stepped out from the hallway. "The computer says that nothing's wrong, though," he remarked, double-checking it on the huge plasma screen by the circular couch. He stepped back, ruffling his spiky black hair. "Yup, everything's under control."

Cyborg inadvertently snorted. "Hey, 'control', reminds me of Control Freak!" he chuckled. "You sure kicked him out good this afternoon, Robin. I didn't see him come back at _all_ today!"

Raven glanced up from beneath her deep blue hood. "Hmmm," she noted, her voice rasping slightly. "He usually returns after he's defeated."

"He didn't, though!" Beast Boy sniggered, thinking of the chubby supervillain. "He was nowhere _near_ Titans Tower at _all!_"

And so the teenaged superheroes returned to their pastimes, completely oblivious to the misery occurring in a certain secret Couch Potato lair below the city.

_They're Pinky,_

_Control Freak and the_

_BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN_

_BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN_

NARF!

**THE END**


End file.
